


Nishiko: Lady Page

by lsterling



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsterling/pseuds/lsterling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning eleven years after Tortall won the Scanran War, Irnai's prophecy has come to pass. Nealan of Queenscove and Yukimi no Daoimoru have a daughter with ambitions to become a Knight of the Realm. Despite the obstacles in her way, Nishiko's choices will tip the balance in the battles to come as she confronts forces that defy the Gods themselves!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resolve

**Author's Note:**

> The settings and canon characters that feature in this story belong to the incredible Tamora Pierce. Their children are the product of my imaginings. Happy reading!

Queenscove, a fief of Tortall;  
Summer  
In the 35th year of the reign of  
Jonathan IV and Thayet, his Queen,  
473 H.E. (The Human Era)

The fresh, mossy ground squished beneath the young girl's feet as she padded across the moor in powerful leaping strides. Her thick, black hair whipped behind her in a wildly knotted mass as the salty breeze beat against her face and caught her tangles like a banner. The glowing light of the sun sank on the horizon before her like butter melting on the edge of a skillet. Though she was running very quickly, her breathing was even and infrequent as her blue-green eyes methodically scanned the shoreline to which she rapidly drew nearer. The moss and low grasses became a line sand dunes littered with dry stalks of beach grass that the girl leapt nimbly over. With a final lunge, she skidded to a grainy halt on the beach just shy of the lapping tide.

Looking out past the breakers crashing upon the foreshore, the girl spotted a small frigate slowly buoyed by the waves toward the very beach where she stood. Fifteen minutes later, the ship was anchored firmly beyond the rocks of the cove and a rowboat was braving the choppy waves. When the boat was close enough for the girl to distinguish between individuals, she counted only four figures outlined dimly by the thin, bright line that was the last vestige of sunlight. Her brow creased with confusion and her mouth tugged to the left in agitation as she thought, _Two oarsman, one at the bow and the other at the stern, her mother and father seated together amidships...Where was the fifth?_ As the oarsmen jumped from their positions and bodily pulled the boat and its occupants ashore, the girl stood still chattering with cold and nerves - her toes barely touching the water as she resisted the urge to run toward her parents.

She knew from countless reunions of this nature that diving headlong into the water would only result in a placid, yet stern talking-to about decorum from her mother while her father would nervously prescribe treatments for the cold she was bound to develop the next day. She sighed, smiling fondly at the remembrance while vowing to stay planted on the spot until the formalities were observed. She was determined to convince her parents that she was a mature and sophisticated young lady - this was, of course, step one of her five-step plan. As the wooden prow of the boat ground against the sand, her parents rose slowly from their benches and the Duke stepped out of the boat and onto the beach. 

He turned back to offer a hand to his Duchess once he had steadied himself and become accustomed once more to the stability of land. Still holding hands, the Duke and Duchess stood together before their daughter. The man was more than a head taller than his wife and had a lanky yet dignified manner about him. His green eyes danced with good humor and his white teeth flashed in a smile upon seeing his precious girl up close. The woman was shorter, round-faced, and slightly plump in a robust way. Though she did not smile widely like her husband, her warm brown eyes crinkled with serene happiness.

Duke Nealan of Queenscove bowed at the waist tucking his left hand behind his back while his right hand swept forward, palm up in supplication. His daughter answered with a neat curtsy placing her left hand delicately in her father's, planting the toes of her right foot in the sand behind her left, and bending her legs slowly outward making certain that she kept her torso steady and straight. After a moment, both straightened and the formality was repeated as Duchess Yukimi no Daiomoru of Queenscove bowed at the knees in the Yamani style with her ankles and knees locked together, head bowed, and hands outstretched palms up. Her daughter copied the curtsy precisely and placed both her hands into her mother's. They rose together still holding hands and smiled at one another with their eyes.

"Nishiko, thank you for meeting us here despite our late arrival. It will make the walk home far more pleasant," Duchess Yukimi murmured as the trio of Queenscoves broke with formality and hugged one another tightly.

Taking her mother's right hand and her father's left, the family walked up the path that Nishiko had taken back through the beach, dunes, and mossy hillock to the gates of the Queenscove citadel. The three remained quiet for a time as they made their way home together enjoying each other's company and the cool taste of the briny air as it mixed with the earthy smell of the plains before them. Inside, Nishiko buzzed with curiosity and worry and was desperate to ask the question that plagued her;  _Where was her best friend?_ However, Nishiko was determined to allow her parents the time they needed to enjoy being home, relax into the normal patterns of their lives, lull them into a false sense of security - step two of her plan.

Finally, her father broke the silence with a grunt of amusement ruefully exclaiming, "Are you truly my daughter? To greet us so politely and then be silent for so long is downright unnatural! What ailment could have caused such a blessed relief from your endless questioning - and why haven't I discovered it before now?"

Duke Nealan looked down at Nishiko and she grinned back up at him wickedly.

"Merely that dreaded disease called tiredness which comes to all hard-workers before the end. I am weary from a long day of household chores and maidenly duties," she complained sarcastically, yawning fakely into a gracefully cupped hand, "and besides, what churlish daughter would dare to pester her beloved parents when they have only just returned home from a diplomatic journey of several months."

"Not that it has ever stopped you before, dear," replied her mother with a tone of weary acceptance. Yukimi shot a look at her husband as sharp as the steel blade of a _shukusen_ urging him to speak.

Nealan cleared his throat and hesitantly confided, "Nishiko, Princess Lianokami will not be staying with us this summer."  
Nishiko felt her face drain of warmth as she stopped dead in her tracks. Her father and mother had not noticed her reaction and continued walking forward through the twilit grass until their daughter's hands dropped from theirs. They turned back at Nishiko's sudden absence to see her several paces behind them looking panic-stricken, her eyes pleading for an explanation.

She stammered, "What's happened to her? Is she ill? W-what-"

"No, sweet child, nothing dire I promise you," Neal reassured gently, placing a comforting hand on his child's shoulder.

"Lianokami has simply made a few-" her mother's pause was full of trepidation as she searched for the most tactful word, " _changes_ to her plans for the future and as a result needs to spend this summer in Corus in order to best prepare."

"We'll explain more once we're in our private quarters," Neal cut in edgily as they approached the walkway that stood between them and the citadel.

Armored guards that stood watchfully on either side of the limestone footbridge bowed and saluted as the Duke, Duchess, and heiress apparent approached. They placed their gauntleted hands over their hearts where they both wore a velvet badge depicting the Queenscove coat of arms - a shield of deep sea blue fronted by a white cherry blossom tree growing atop a triangle of forest green and blue wavelets surmounted by the Queen's circlet.

The family bowed to their vassals with the same formality with which they had greeted each other and Duke Nealan clapped each of them congenially on the back exclaiming loudly, "Why do I ever leave? It's nice to see that the gnarled old yew has finally been replaced with the cherry blossom of my wife's Yamani clan. Makes for a lovely change to the antiquated emblem, don't you think?"

The guards nodded in polite agreement and returned to their upright and protective postures staring dead ahead, watching for any danger - though there was rarely anything to be feared from West these days. As they walked through the iron barred gates of the western archway, through the walled city, and into the castle itself, Duke Nealan was waylaid by the overzealous greetings of his steward Ramell who inquired about everything from the weather in the Yamani Islands to the exact time when he could expect the ship to come into port with the morning tide so that he could prepare some footmen to go and procure their possessions. After bluntly responding to the loquacious steward, Neal and his family ascended the grand staircase and turned right to walk down the richly carpeted hallway of studies, libraries, and workrooms together. Duke Nealan fumbled with a ring of iron keys, struggling to find the one that would unlock his study at the end of the hall.

"I swear they are all identical," he muttered indignantly as he tried, unsuccessfully, to isolate the correct key.

"Why you always insist on doing things the hard way is beyond me," Yukimi breathed bemusedly as she unlocked the door with a tiny spark of her light blue Gift.

Neal mumbled grumpily under his breath, "For all you knew, it could have been warded against _everyone_ instead of just non-family members."

Nishiko filled the magelights with her turquoise Gift - the exact color of her eyes and the combination of her parent Gifts' - illuminating the room before they all entered and sat comfortably around Neal's messy desk.

"Though, now I think on it," Neal continued a conversation he had evidently been having on his own, "I should magically code each of my keys to glow when in the proximity of its corresponding locks so I don't have to fish around like a dolt each time I need to open something...I won't accidentally destroy the door ward by using my Gift against it either-"

Yukimi ahem-ed softly in order to reorient her husband's attention to more relevant matters and Nealan promptly returned to the subject and hand.

He sighed once, and said it all quickly and irretrievably, "Princess Lianokami has decided not to continue her studies in the warrior arts. Roald and Shinkokami told us by letter that Lianokami thought, after deliberating long and hard about her duties as the future Queen of Tortall, that her future rule would be easier - less controversial - if she trained as a Lady of the Court rather than as a Knight of the Realm."

A shocked silence descended on Nishiko as her mind buzzed to no avail. No thoughts could be produced in the resulting void, only an empty numbness that spread to her chest.

"You have to understand, dear one, that she already faces much scrutiny as the first female heir in Tortallan history who is not a pure Easterner," her mother added quietly.

Nishiko's head suddenly cleared at that last comment, outrage replacing the cold.

"Who cares?" she snarled viciously, dropping any vestige of Yamani calm, "who cares if she's pure anything. Liano is going to be a greater queen than Thayet the Peerless. What does it matter that she's a girl or whether her mother is from here, there, or anywhere? The Yamani-Tortallan Treaty was signed years ago and that's that."

Nishiko huffed at the last statement and folded her arms a petulant attitude.

Reminding herself that her daughter was yet to turn nine, her mother crooned, "If only life were that simple, Shiko," taking her daughter's hand in an effort to leech the anger from Nishiko and replace it with her own vast supply of tranquility.

"If only the Conservatives would ever learn," her father remarked bitterly, "Your mother is right, the princess cannot make enemies amongst her people - she will struggle to maintain their support even without trying for her shield simply because of her very nature."

Skipping steps three and four of her brilliant scheme, Nishiko jumped right to step five and asked point blank, "Will you still allow me to become a Page next year?"

A sudden silence fell over the room. Yukimi pulled a fan from the scarlet silk _obi_ of her kimono and started to wave it before her face, clearly trying to hide whatever unbidden expressions were playing out there. The fan's intrusion into the conversation meant that the Duchess had already formed an opinion on the matter, but did not want to affect her husband's reaction. The Duke of Queenscove sat rigidly in his chair as if it were suddenly made of crude iron, his face was very pale making the green of his eyes shine as his eyes bulged comically. He stared at his palms as he cracked his knuckles, picked his fingernails, and wrung his hands together all in an attempt to do anything other than look his determined daughter in the eye. After an eternity, during which Nishiko repeatedly glanced out the window to make sure that the sun was not in fact rising for a new day, Neal finally looked up.

Haltingly, he reasoned, "We thought-" with an interrupting glance of Yukimi's eyes from over her fan he amended, " _I_ thought that without Lianokami...um...you might reconsider. I mean...you two do everything together. Not to mention, you were sort of...counting on her royal protection to prevent any...nastiness. Wouldn't you rather stick together, learn together?"

Suddenly, hot anger flared in Nishiko's belly - an anger that rose up into her throat and steamed out of her mouth. Not anger at her father, for he spoke a truth that resonated with what Nishiko had imagined her life to be. _No, this rage is not for him_ , she thought deliberately, trying to pinpoint to whom these feelings needed to be directed.

"I would have followed Lianokami anywhere, absolutely anywhere. I would never have imagined going through the challenges of being a Page, Squire, and Knight without her friendship. But I will not follow her away from where my dreams dare to take me. I don't need a her protection. Just because she's been bullied out of the plan we made years ago - and doesn't even have the guts to tell me herself - does not mean that I am!" Nishiko's initial, brutal calm rose into a low yell as she spoke, as the tight hold she had kept on her anger suddenly loosened.

Her mother interjected, "Nishiko, that's not fair. Lianokami would have told you in person if she could, I'm sure of it. But her duties-"

"Yeah," Nishiko snarled, "Liano's _duties_ are going to lead her to unhappiness in the end and it surely won't be my shoulder she cries on when she realizes that she's limited herself to the court when she could have the realm. I'll be off adventuring and righting wrongs while she attends balls and banquets and accomplishes nothing herself."

" _Nishiko_ ," Nealan interjected sharply, "that is the future queen you are disparaging. Remember whom you serve. If you want me to consider your request seriously, I suggest you mind your tongue. And apologize to your mother for interrupting immediately."

After a pregnant pause, Nishiko muttered, "I'm sorry, _okasaan_ ," sulkily.

"It is forgiven, _ko_. Since this is clearly an emotional topic for all of us, I think we should sleep and deliberate in dreams," Yukimi suggested encouragingly, "after all, it is only the beginning of summer. Your tenth birthday is still more than a year away, so we have abundant time to ponder this problem. It need not be solved tonight."

With murmurs of assent, the globes of light were extinguished and Nishiko left the study without another word, marching down the hallway, up the main staircase, and around the winding stair of the Northern Tower to her room. Not even bothering to illuminate the chamber, Nishiko flung herself onto the bed and peeled off her top layer of clothes hurling them against her door in frustration.

She closed her eyes and prayed - for one of the few times in her life - to Mithros for strength of heart and arm, to The Goddess for wisdom and grace, and to The Dark God for peaceful sleep. All her prayers were granted and more. After all, a god can guide a mortal. Yet, there always comes a moment when only a human can affect the outcome.

Nishiko was one such human, and she would indeed make change.


	2. Compromise

When false dawn began to light the sky next morning, the pale grey glow that suffused Nishiko’s room woke her instantly. Though she was quite capable of sleeping through violent storms and raucous parties, even slight changes in light disturbed her slumber and once she was up, there was no going back. Fortunately, she liked the feeling of preparedness that came with waking up early and could easily draw the curtains at night if she wished to luxuriate in sleep for longer. Sitting up in bed, Nishiko rubbed her eyes and began to think seriously about her newfound predicament. With a sad little sigh, she said goodbye to dreams of riding into battle next to Lianokami and reflected on how those dreams had come into being.

As far back as Nishiko could remember, she had known and loved Lianokami like a sister. When Sir Nealan and Lady Yukimi had still lived at the Royal Palace in Corus, before Duke Baird had passed away and bequeathed his lands and title, they were rarely apart from their childhood friends Crown Prince Roald and Princess Shinkokami. After Tortall won the Scanran War and peace returned to the realms, Yuki and Shinko both had daughters just seven months apart - and both children were, of course, different from most. Though the girls had the eye colors of their Tortallan fathers, they resembled their Yamani mothers in all other aspects. In Tortall, they were mistaken for the children of Yamani dignitaries and were criticized for being strangely emotionless. In the Yamani Islands, their bright eye colors and “rambunctious” behavior made them unnatural. Everywhere, they were mistaken for one another.

When Lianokami was five and Nishiko four, they accompanied their mothers’ on an official state visit to the Yamani Islands and remained there for three years. While Shinkokami and Yukimi assisted with matters of state, their daughters learned Yamani ways and trained with the warriors of the Yamani court. Both discovered an aptitude for fighting they had never known they possessed - their only previous fighting experience being the kind of unprincipled roughhousing that children their age tend to find endlessly amusing.

Together they learned the basics of the warrior’s craft; how to fall without injury, twist, jump, dodge, and roll to avoid attacks, kick, throw, and punch as powerfully as a Shang, shoot arrows and throw knives as accurately as an assassin, ride horses, and wield a _bō_ (staff) and _naginata_ (polearm) with ease. The girls practiced interminably, learned from the ceaseless criticisms of the Emperor’s training master, and rose early each morning to clean their weapons and do strengthening exercises together. When one grew weary of endless drills devoid of apparent improvement, the other always urged them on bolstering their will power as they both soldiered on together growing stronger each day.

On the voyage home from Tortall, they swore solemn vows to use their new skills to fight and defend the realm side by side. True to her promise, Nishiko’s first request upon returning to Queenscove was that she be allowed to receive instruction from the Sergeant-at-Arms. Nealan had agreed warily and hoped she would grow out of this rough-and-tumble phase just as his own sister Jessamine had when she was seven. Two years had passed and each Midwinter Festival brought the Queenscove family and the Royal family back together in Corus; each New Year, Lianokami and Nishiko had reaffirmed their promise to try for their shields as one.

 _Now everything is different,_ Nishiko thought dejectedly. _I never imagined that I would feel sorry for Liano. I was really angry at her last night, but I suppose it’s not her fault that her subjects are close-minded._ Nishiko shook her head to dispel her bitter thoughts and slid out of bed leaving her untidy sheets and memories behind to be dealt with later. After pulling on a pair of tan-colored cotton hose and a Queenscove-blue tunic, she stood up straight then dropped on her hands to the cold stone floor and began to push her body up with her arms straight, then slowly ease back down to hover above the floor, hold, and repeat. She continued with various strengthening exercises that worked her arms, legs, and abdomen until the sun rose to a gleaming semicircle on the horizon. Nishiko wiped sweat from her face and drank a glass of water from a pitcher that the chill of early summer had cooled as it sat on the windowsill overnight.

Before Nishiko exited her room, she grumpily pulled on a pleated, black skirt that brushed her ankles - an unwanted gift from her father’s Keeper of the Wardrobe who had insisted that Nishiko wear it over her hose in order to “save the Ducal house from disgrace.” When Nishiko had asked what was so disgraceful about her legs, the fussy old laundress had shaken her head sanctimoniously and threatened that Nishiko would obey or else would never have her clothes washed for her again. Unlike most noble children, Nishiko did chores - for her parents insisted on instilling an appreciation for servants’ work in their daughter. However, she simply could not stand doing laundry. Nishiko sneezed whenever she smelled undiluted washing soap and her hands felt swollen and itchy after scrubbing endless piles of clothing.

Feeling outwitted, she had agreed to wear the stupid skirt in order to avoid doing laundry and maintain peace in the realm. In reality, Nishiko did not mind wearing it all that much since it was made of a very breathable fabric that did not impede her when she walked, ran, or fought. However, on principle alone she hated the wretched thing and swore dramatically that it would get pinned in a door and lead to her death whenever the washerwoman was within earshot. Nishiko looked at herself in the long mirror next to the door, tucking the blue tunic into the waist of her skirt and braiding her long hair back into neat plaits before stepping out onto the stairway.

As she descended the twisting spiral tower, Nishiko thought about the plan that she had hastily abandoned last night in her eagerness to finally get an answer out of her parents. Since her father had not made up his mind one way or the other as of last night, she still had time to persuade him further. Step three of the plan was now out of the question since it had involved Lianokami casually discussing who she hoped her Knight-Master would be within earshot of her parents. Since Lianokami was out of the portrait, Nishiko proceeded to what remained of the fourth step: sparring with Lianokami in front of her parents to prove that she was strong enough for the road ahead. The absence of Liano was easily remedied since Byrum Sadler, the Queenscove Sergeant-at-Arms who had taught her all she knew about Tortallan-style combat, was always happy to be her opponent in any kind of duel.

Instead of stopping at the first landing and going down the main staircase to breakfast, Nishiko continued further down the tower steps and onto the servants’ floor just above the wine and grain cellars. Nishiko quickly edged along the walls of the hallway, careful to avoid getting in the way of the sleepy scullery maids exiting their rooms and heading toward the kitchens, until she reached the door she was after. Knocking softly on Byrum’s door took all the restraint she possessed, but the former soldier did not need much more noise to coax him from bed. The door opened a crack and a bleary yellow eye peered out of the gloom to assess the situation.

Byrum grumbled in objection and moaned, “Niiiish, why must ye wake me at the bum crack of dawn on a Sa’urday? I hear no army attackin’ the citadel and breakfast is not even started yet, so this cannot possibly be urgent enough to warrant such a rude awakenin’.”

“Please, _please_ don’t call me Nish,” Nishiko pleaded. “If you must abbreviate my name, I much prefer Shiko. Nish sounds like the sound my teeth make when I grind them.”

“I only do it to annoy ye,” he rumbled, “and since ye’re annoyin’ me at the moment I think I’m entitled to annoy ye right back!”

“Look Byrum, I’m _deeply_ sorry that I disturbed you at this early hour,” Nishiko interjected hastily. “But right now you are the key to all of my dreams becoming reality!”

Byrum narrowed his eyes and opened the door a little wider. “Ye sure the battlefield is where ye belong and not the player’s stage? I reckon ye’d be a great little actress.”

Ignoring the jibe, Nishiko requested, “Would you invite my Honored parents to the practice yard in two hours to watch us duel with fist, staff, and bow?”

“Aren’t ye forgettin’ somethin’ important, lass?” Byrum prompted.

“ _Pleeeease?_ ”

“Aye, very well,” Byrum agreed with a grunt. “Mind I won’ take it easy on ye just ter help ye prove yerself to the Duke and Duchess. Ye’re on your own cos I fight to kill.” He winked encouragingly. “Now go on with ye and leave me be. I see ye in two hours on the field o’ battle.”

Byrum slammed the door closed as a final protest against the earliness of the hour and Nishiko, unfazed, skipped away contentedly. She ate a light, but energizing, breakfast and ran two swift laps along the Queenscove’s crenelated ramparts preparing for the battles to come.

~

Two hours later, she found herself facing off against Byrum while her parents sat in the outdoor gallery seats and watched the demonstration. They began with archery. Two painted targets had been set against hay bales eighty meters from the shooting line. Byrum shot first with a yew longbow and his five arrows landed in a neat cluster in the center circle with one bullseye. Nishiko picked up her recurve bow and adjusted her stance so that she stood perpendicular to the target with her feet shoulder width apart. She nocked her first arrow, raised her bow so the arrow pointed slightly up toward the sky, and loosed. Five shots later she had three bullseyes, two center circles, and one outer circle that had been blown off-course by a sudden sea breeze.

Feeling relatively satisfied with her first performance, Nishiko prepared to fight unarmed. She assumed a wrestling stance and crouched down low with one foot slightly forward and her knees greater than shoulder width apart in order to keep her center of gravity low. When her father yelled _begin!_ Nishiko lunged forward aiming a punch at Byrum’s gut. He blocked her punch with his forearm, but she was already spinning into a sidekick that caught him squarely in the chest. Byrum reacted as if a butterfly had landed on his chest instead of a blow, caught her foot, and twisted so that Nishiko spun away wildly. She landed on the ground with control and sprung back up, ducking quickly to avoid the punch Byrum was aiming at her face. Nishiko saw an opening and dropped to the ground sweeping Byrum’s legs out from under him. For a man of his size, he got up unnaturally quickly forcing Nishiko to seal the deal. Grabbing his forearm tightly with both hands, she wrenched forcefully unbalancing and redirecting Byrum’s weight to catapult him over her hip. He smashed to ground with a _thud_ and did not immediately rise.

“Tha’ does it!” Byrum exclaimed as he took Nishiko’s helping hand and rose to his feet. “I yield! ‘Tis a sad yet glorious day when pupil bests master and I been expecting it fer a while.”

“I could not have done it without you Byrum, thank you,” Nishiko replied respectfully, bowing low to show that though she had beaten him he was still her superior.

“Yer welcome, lass. Been a pleasure to watch ye grow, but if ye will excuse me,” he bowed to Nishiko and her parents, “I think we know she’d beat me with a staff, too, if I let her.”

Byrum exited the practice field and was about to open the doors to return to the keep when he turned back and bellowed, “When ye’re a proper swordswoman, Lady Nishiko, come back and try yer luck again! Ol’ Byrum Sadler never lost a sword duel, I promise ye that!”

With a bark of laughter, Byrum entered the castle and began to search for a sympathetic maid to draw him a hot bath. The Duke exited the gallery and joined his daughter on the practice field while the Duchess returned to her rooms to let her husband and daughter talk privately. Yukimi already knew that Nishiko was destined to try for her shield - Keladry had told her about Irnai’s prophecy years ago. Netiher of them had told Neal in order to spare him premature anxiety. _Besides,_ she thought, _Yamanis were far better at yielding to destiny than Tortallans._

“Walk with me, Nishiko,” Nealan requested solemnly.

Nishiko grabbed a towel to mop her sweaty face and hurried off after her father as he had already begun to walk away with long strides, hands clasped intently behind his back. They strolled out of the citadel gates together and towards the cove that gave the fief its name.

“You did very well in the practice yard today. You have certainly proven your strength and skills - there is no doubt in my mind that you are far better today than I was when I began my training as a Page. Perhaps even better than I was after my early Page years.”

“Thank you, father,” Nishiko accepted the praise quietly.

“The problem is that my hesitation to let you try for your shield was never due to an underestimation of your physical strength. The Yamanis prepared you as thoroughly as they did Keladry, and as you well know she has excelled in the fighting arts ever since. I am not worried that you would fail to win your shield; instead, I worry about what comes after.” Neal paused heavily and asked abruptly, “Why do you really want to become a knight, Nishiko?”

Nishiko responded automatically, “Queenscove is one of the four corners of the Tortallan shield. We have a duty to continue guarding the realm, both as individuals and as a house. Every Queenscove generation has produced at least one Knight to protect the realm. Since I am the only one so far,” her father winced at that, “I have a duty to serve well and honor you.”

Neal recalled, “I thought precisely the same as you do when I decided to become a Page. I gave up my passion for scholarly pursuits and delayed my training as a healer to become a Queenscove Knight. At the time, I though it was the only way I could truly help. But there are so many other ways that you could serve the realm besides Knighthood - a Queen’s Rider, a Royal University student, a Lady Ambassador, and a Palace Healer to name only a few. Are you sure being a Lady Knight is what you truly want and not just the only option you have considered?”

Nishiko thought a moment, then revealed, “At times, I have considered other paths, but none of those futures excite me as much as Knighthood. I know it’s difficult, painful, and often thankless - I have no delusions of grandeur. But in the end it’s worth it…right?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Neal speculated, “Keladry certainly thinks it was worth her efforts. Knighthood brought her everything she ever wanted - she met the love of her life, cousin Dom, was given New Hope as a fief, and became Commander of the King’s Own. Knighthood gained her authority, respect, and the power to raise the downtrodden. Perhaps if my brothers, your Uncles Graeme and Willard, were still alive today their answers would be different.”

Nishiko stopped and hugged her father around the waist trying to ease the pain she had heard in his voice with her love. Neal held onto Nishiko tightly, trying and failing to stop a tear from rolling down his cheek as he bowed his head over hers and kissed the top of her hair.

“Listen to me, Shiko. You are my first and only child. I care for you more than I care for myself - I cannot lose you. You are the only person who will carry on the Queenscove name when I pass and I want your life to be a good one filled with the love and happiness that you deserve. I cannot endure the thought of isolationists and woman-haters harassing my little girl. You cannot expect me to stand aside as you are bruised, injured, or killed fighting for pointless political gains.” He shuddered at the thought and continued, “I have seen and done many terrible things in my lifetime and I am haunted by them in my nightmares. You are strong, but you are also sensitive like me and a Knight’s actions leave marks on the soul that are not easily healed.”

“Father, I love you and I love Queenscove.” Nishiko replied taking her father’s hand as they continued to walk slowly away from the citadel. “I understand that I have a duty to continue the family line, but I also know that I have a duty to myself to be happy with the choices I make. When I am old and tired, I do not want to be filled with regret. I wish with all my heart that I could spare you pain by choosing a different path, but I cannot betray myself - not even for you.”

“I thought it would come to that,” Neal smiled ruefully. “So, may I offer a compromise?”

Nishiko glared at her father suspiciously, “What do you propose, papa?”

Though Neal set great store by the art of compromise, his daughter felt that compromises usually resulted in an outcome that made both involved parties miserable - she wasn’t wrong.

“I spoke with Kel about this eventuality when you were born. While she cradled you in her arms for the first time, our prophetic Lady Knight asked me what I would do if you decided to pursue Knighthood. I told her, naively, that I would never try to prevent a child of mine from following her passion.”

Nishiko was about to interject triumphantly, but Neal held up a finger and she remained respectfully silent. “I did ask her what she wished she had done differently, what could have made her years at the palace easier. Besides running more, which you already do, Kel said that she wished she had started when she was a little older…after she had become a woman.”

Nishiko flushed with embarrassment and disgust at the thought of having monthlies and blurted out, “Why should that make any difference? It’s just a little blood, right?”

“It is _not_ just a little blood,” Neal protested, “It is your body and mind changing. It is an important part of life and it takes some getting used to - a process Kel thinks might have been easier for her if she had been with her mother instead of surrounded by immature boys. Many of the girls who have tried for their Knighthood since Keladry’s success have quit around the age of twelve or thirteen for personal reasons and that is my theory as to why.”

Neal’s daughter harrumphed in disbelief, but said nothing more to contradict him as she sensed the exact nature of the compromise approaching.

The Duke of Queenscove put both hands on his daughter’s shoulders and got down on his knees in order to look straight into her blue-green eyes as he requested, “Nishiko, will you wait until you are a woman - two or three years from now - to make the decision to try for your shield? If you wait just a little longer, your mother and I swear to support your choice.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Nishiko held out her right hand to her father and as they grasped forearms she swore, “I, Nishiko of Queenscove, do solemnly vow to wait until I am a woman in order to choose my life’s course in exchange for the full support of my family. So mote it be.”

“So mote,” Neal intoned as he rose from the ground.

“Hey papa,” Nishiko asked wryly, “is there any way to become a woman really quick?”

Nealan shook his head in amusement, chuckling at his daughter’s tenacity. “I think you’ll find that time passes quickly enough without any help from mortals like you or me.”

He took Nishiko’s small hand in his own large one as they continued walking toward Queen’s Cove together.


	3. Arrival

The Conté Road, Tortall;  
Summer  
In the 38th year of the reign of  
Jonathan IV and Thayet, his Queen,  
477 H.E. (The Human Era)

Time did indeed pass quickly - just three years later, a few months before Nishiko turned thirteen, her monthly cycles began. Though the discomfort was more intense than she had expected, with the help of willow bark tea and her mother’s ache-diminishing magical meditation, Nishiko was able to train through the pain. Despite the extra years her father had used to “educate” his daughter about the difficulties of Knighthood, Nishiko’s desire was as pure and strong as it had been six years before when she had first pledged to serve. When the Queenscove harvest drew to an end, after all the sheaves of wheat and barley had been combed and stored in the cool, dry cellars of the fortress, Nishiko began contemplating preparations for her journey. However, a sudden, inexplicable nervousness overtook Shiko every time she pulled out her saddlebags and tried to gather all the possessions that she might need.

She was not the only one nervous about her imminent departure. Duke Nealan grew more sullen every day that brought Shiko closer to her departure until one night when he got an urgent message in the fire from his Royal Highness King Jonathan IV of Conté. In his haste to excuse himself from the dinner table and answer the magical summons, he had nearly knocked over his chair leaving his wife and daughter staring after him with expressions of poorly concealed mockery. However, Neal returned from the conference with a strut and a wide grin on his face, sat back down at the dinner table, and announced that Cyril Finesman, the man who had been chosen to replace Duke Baird as Chief of the Palace Healer’s, had been disgraced. It seemed that he had tried to heal a man while drunk and had accidentally cemented the bones of the man’s knee together so badly that the poor patient could not bend the leg at all. The patient was not just anybody; he was Padraig haMinch, an influential nobleman and the Pages’ Training Master.

“I knew that oaf Cyril could never replace my father,” Neal exclaimed, justified at last in his negative opinion of the man, “A powerful healer to be sure, but he was always a fool.”

“That is simply awful,” Yukimi demurred, “Will Lord haMinch recover?”

“He will indeed because _I_ am going to the Palace to help! The King has requested - no _commanded_ \- that I return to the palace, fix haMinch’s leg properly, and serve as Chief Healer until I can find or train a suitable replacement,” Nealan beamed wickedly at his daughter, “Guess that means we will be accompanying you to Corus, Shiko m’ dear!”

Nishiko’s face drained of color at her father’s words. Realizing what this would mean, she looked frantically to her mother for help, but Yukimi only smiled slightly and shook her head, hoping that her daughter would accept this calmly and with grace. She did not.

“Papaaaa,” Nishiko began desperately, “I’m really happy for you and all, but when we get to the Palace you cannot watch me like a hawk, okay? I need to be treated like any other Page or I won’t be respected. Please promise me that you will not interfere with my training.”

Duke Nealan paused for a moment, considering the answers he could give. Reluctantly he replied, “Though my instincts are to guard you every moment that I can, I will be too busy reorganizing the healing staff, attending to their majesties, assisting the Lower City, and training a suitable successor. Even my desire to protect you will not allow me to shirk my duties.”

Nishiko let out an audible sigh of relief and sat back in her chair comfortably, letting the words of her parents’ conversation about the necessary preparations wash over her.

“We should inform the servants tomorrow so that we can begin to get the household in order and ready for our departure - when does the King expect us?”

“In five day’s time, he’s sending Keladry’s squad of the King’s Own to escort us since there are rumors of Gifted bandits prowling along the Conté Road,” Neal added.

“I hope we do not inconvenience the Own,” Yukimi replied worriedly.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Neal waived his hand dismissively, “Kel and her men are just South of the River Bonnett at the moment and she is already planning to return to Corus since she has to give her yearly report and escort her young Rowland to begin his training, too.”

Nishiko sat back up at this and smiled joyously at her father, blurting out, “Cousin Rowland is starting his Page training this year, too?”

“Indeed he is, I thought I told you that already,” Neal replied smiling, “I am just as glad that you will have kin training with you - I swear the point of family is automatic friendship.”

“It is a relief,” Shiko replied, only just realizing how afraid she had been of making no friends in the Page’s wing. As her parents debated about what instructions to leave for Ramell, Shiko returned to her room and began packing her belongings with a lightened heart.

~

Two mornings later, Lady Knight Keladry of the recently ennobled fief of New Hope and Commander of Third Company of the King’s Own arrived at Queenscove with her son and a platoon of mounted warriors. They found Duke Nealan, Duchess Yukimi, and Lady Nishiko fully packed and mounted on their horses - ready to begin their journey together. After brief familial greetings, the travelers continued on their way with Neal and Yukimi riding beside Keladry at the front of the procession while Shiko and her cousin rode together in the middle of the pack and enthused about the great deeds they intended to do as Knights.

“It will be hard to get there though,” Rowland conceded with a shrug, “Hours of training, squiring, not to mention the Ordeal-”

He broke off as Nishiko quivered with dread at the thought of what waited for her beyond the doors of the Chamber and wondered whether she would make it out in one piece.

“What do you think it will be like for you?” Rowland asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Shiko gasped in surprise, “I thought nobody has any idea what awaits them inside the Chamber.”

“You’re right,” Rowland conceded, “All we know is that it tries to destroy Squires who are unworthy of becoming Tortallan Knights. The only way I can figure the Chamber does that is by scaring the daylights out of you in really imaginative and specific way. I’m terrified of snakes, so I just know the Chamber is going to toss me into a pit of them.”

Nishiko thought for a moment before recalling, “A few years ago, right after returning home from the Yamani Islands, I got lost while exploring in the caverns of Queen’s Cove. The tunnels twist and turn for miles under the moor and are filled with the strangest rock formations you can imagine. I was so distracted that I barely noticed when the tide began to seep in and I nearly drowned trying to get back out again. I’ve been afraid of tight, dark places ever since.”

Rowland whistled sharply in alarm, “How did you make it out alive?”

“Luck, I guess,” Shiko countered dismissively, knowing that if she told Rowland how she had actually managed to escape - who or _what_ had helped her find the way out - he would think she was insane. “Let’s not worry about it Rowl, we have eight years to prepare for the Ordeal of Knighthood and try to conquer our fears. You know most snakes aren’t even poisonous, right?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Rowland grudgingly agreed, “The problem is you only know for sure once it’s too late.”

“Well, if you get bitten by a _poisonous serpent of death_ , I’ll help heal you,” Nishiko promised dramatically. “Papa’s been teaching me how to use my Gift. He says it made him a lot of friends as a Page since he was always mending their broken fingers after staff practice.”

“Smart man, your father. Good reason for me to keep you around, cousin,” Rowland teased as he leaned out of his saddle to ruffle Shiko’s hair affectionately. They both laughed and trotted on together, chatting about lighter subjects for the rest of the day’s ride.

~

The next day, the assemblage arrived in Corus by way of the Royal Forest so that the King’s Own would not disrupt the hustle and bustle of the Lower City markets, much to the disappointment of their young charges.

“You will have plenty of time to visit the markets,” Keladry reassured Rowland and Nishiko placidly, “Trust me, I kept my nose to the grindstone more than any other Page and even I had plenty of opportunities to go into the city to buy Midwinter gifts and ogle Raven Armory.”

As they approached the Forest Gate, a masterpiece of wrought iron deer and hunting dogs trimmed with gold, Shiko looked up at the ramparts of the palace wall and noticed the armed guards in their red and gold liveries training crossbows on the approaching platoon watchfully.

Keladry wheeled her horse about in front of the gate, brandished her badge of office and shouted up to the guards, “Lady Keladry of New Hope, Commander of Third Company of the King’s Own, requests entrance be granted to herself, her platoon, her son, and her cousins - the Duke and Duchess of Queenscove and their daughter! His Royal Highness King Jonathan is expecting us all!” She turned to Neal and Yukimi explaining in a normal voice, “Security around here has increased markedly in the past few months…not even old Sir Myles will tell me why.”

After a few minutes of waiting while the guards authenticated Kel’s badge and confirmed that they were, in fact, expected to arrive today, the guards opened the gates and allowed the string of mounted horses to enter. Keladry led the way to the stable courtyard where royal hostlers took charge of the horses and footmen relocated bags and gear to their proper rooms within the castle. Kel, Neal, and Yukimi all took off the outer layer of soft, leather riding clothes they had worn on the journey trying to keep horsehair and dust from resettling on the relatively clean layer clothes beneath. Shiko and Rowland followed suit a little less successfully, but nonetheless looked far better than they had before. The family walked together into the castle through seemingly endless marble corridors until they reached the Pages’ wing.

When they arrived outside the Training Master’s office, a footman in an overlarge uniform opened haMinch’s door and announced, “May I present Duke Nealan of Queenscove, Yukimi, his Duchess, and their daughter Lady Nishiko. And may I also present Lady Knight Keladry of New Hope and her son Lord Rowland.”

A low grunt of approval could be heard from inside the office and the five of them entered. Unlike in the days of Lord Wyldon of Cavall, the study was lavishly decorated with velvet hangings and portraits while the bookshelf was packed with gilded tomes about military and noble history. The only thing out of place was a large piece of slate that took up the entire rear wall of the room and was covered in powdery white scribbles. Padraig haMinch sat there with his wrapped and padded leg propped up on the desk and a look of barely concealed discomfort in his blue eyes that was echoed in the deeply carved lines of his tanned face.

“Welcome Duke, Duchess, and Lady Knight,” Padraig addressed the adults, ignoring the children for the time being, “You must forgive me, I would stand and greet you properly if it were not for my injury.” He thumped his leg with disgust and continued; addressing Rowland and Nishiko now, “Sit down, please. I have things to say and your legs are weary from riding.”

Shiko and Rowland smiled and thanked the Training Master as they sat before him.

“Now, I don’t need to look at the wall behind me to know that you two come from heroic stock,” Padraig nodded solemnly, “Yes indeed. Few people know what really neutralized those infernal Killing Devices and turned the tide of the Scanran War, but I was there on the war council at the time and heard the truth. However, heroism is not what I teach here - as a Page you will learn obedience more than anything else. While great deeds are _very_ occasionally the result of disobedience,” Padraig conceded scowling at Keladry and Neal, “more often insubordination kills. Until you are deemed intelligent and skilled enough to command, your responsibility is to go where you are told and do what you are told. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Training Master,” Rowland and Nishiko intoned together.

“Good,” Padraig boomed, “Now remember, when you are weary and feel like giving up or giving in, think of this wall,” he pointed at the large slate behind him, “This is a list of every Page who has become a Knight since 400 HE accompanied by their greatest deed to date. Your parents and their achievements are right here.” Padraig pointed to a section labeled “460 HE” - the year Keladry and Nealan had become Knights. “Remember that every broken bone, every sore muscle, and every late night studying brings you closer to great moments of your own. You must be ready for them. Now off with you, my footman will show you both to your respective rooms and get you settled. You have three days before the other Pages begin to arrive, so use them to get properly outfitted and practice - Duke Nealan, when you have a moment, if you would do me the honor of fixing this blasted knee, I will forever be in your debt.”

“The honor is mine my Lord Padraig, I will see to it now. It may take several healing sessions to remedy so I would like to assess the damage immediately,” Neal insisted.

Duke Nealan pulled a chair up beside Lord Padraig’s and placed his glowing green hands over the injury, probing the place where the thighbone, shinbone, and kneecap had fused improperly. While Neal remained, Yukimi and Keladry left the office with their children in tow following the footman down the Pages’ wing to two adjacent rooms at the very end of the hall. With a little wave, Shiko and Rowland separated following their mothers’ into their own rooms.

“It will be hard to make this feel like home,” Shiko muttered dejectedly as she entered.

The room was a cube of stone walls complete with battered wooden furniture - a small bed, desk, two chairs, drawers, and a bedside table - adjoined by a privy and changing room.

“I disagree, _ko_ ,” Yukimi replied merrily as she unpacked a bag filled with brightly colored sheets, blankets, and mats, “You will be surprised what a little color and a few personal effects can do to brighten a room like this.”

Of course, her mother was right. Half an hour later the room was barely recognizable. All of Shiko’s clothes had been refolded and stored neatly in the drawers and the bed had been remade with scarlet silk sheets and furs that were folded at the foot of the bed to be pulled up when the nights grew chilly. The rough stone floor was covered by two bamboo mats that made it comfortable to walk barefoot and Nishiko’s desk was adorned with all of her favorite items - shells she had collected on the Queenscove beaches, a small portrait of her family, a calligraphy set that she had brought back with her from the Yamani Islands, and a _maneki-neko_ (waving cat).

“You were right, _okasaan_!” Nishiko exclaimed with delight hugging her mother, “This is so much better that I thought it would be.”

Yukimi hugged her daughter tightly, “I am glad that even now I can still guide you. Nishiko, you have taken a very different course from my own, but I hope that you will always be able to come to me for advice no matter how far removed our path’s may seem.”

Nishiko looked up, surprised, “You’re my mother. Your advice will always be the best. At my age you left your home and traveled to a foreign land where you knew fewer people than you could count on one hand - in a way that is something far braver than becoming a Page.”

Duchess Yukimi smiled at her daughter as wide as any Tortallan, kissed her on both cheeks, and then left to go see how her own palace apartments were being prepared. With an exaggerated sigh of relief Nishiko fell back onto her newly made bed with a thump and basked in the softness of a feather mattress after so long in the saddle. Much sooner than she would have liked, Shiko heard a knock at her door. With an unusually wretched groan for a girl only twelve years of age, Nishiko rose from the bed and opened the door to see Keladry standing before her.

“May I speak with you, cousin?” Keladry asked smoothly.

“Of course!” Shiko answered, “Please come in.”

They sat in the two standard wooden chairs in silence for a moment as Kel surveyed the room with amusement.

“You know,” Keladry recollected wryly, “in my day all of these decorations would have been torn down and urinated on as soon as you left the room.”

Shiko looked at her in shock, “That’s awful! Papa said you were bullied, but destroying your things…what disgusting behavior!”

“Tortall has definitely progressed since then. The Lioness’s success was viewed as an anomaly; it has taken forty years since she became a Lady Knight for Tortallans to accept that some women are just as qualified to fight as their male counterparts. It still is not a respected choice, but I am certain that you will not face as many struggles as I did twenty-five years ago.”

“Well, I certainly don’t have to worry about getting my monthlies for the first time while I am here,” Nishiko retorted ruefully, “Papa took your words to heart about starting later.”

Keladry looked slightly embarrassed for a moment before replying, “I am truly sorry about that, but I felt an obligation to answer him honestly - your father is my best and oldest Tortallan friend. I hope it did not anger you too much to wait.”

“Kel, I don’t actually blame you,” Nishiko replied sheepishly, “Papa probably would have found some other reason to keep me at home, perhaps for longer, if you had not told him about the monthlies business. Maybe it’s a good thing. After all, this means I am older and probably more mature than the other Pages…that may help me earn their respect. Besides, being able to train with Rowland will be fun. I am just worried that-”

“-that your father will never leave you be,” Keladry finished with a smile, “Don’t worry, your mother and I plan to ambush him at dinner tonight. Between the two of us, Neal will never know what hit him. Just know that he does this out of love for you, Shiko. Nothing more.”

“I know, I know and I love him for it, but I need to make my own way.”

“Trust me, Shiko, you will make your own way here with or without your father. Becoming a Page is a personal endeavor; no one else will be able to make it easier. Only you can do that by working hard every second of every day,” Kel instructed as she unwrapped something from the pouch beside her sword. “The Lioness gave me these when I was a Page - though I did not know it was her at the time. I have passed them on to each female Page who has walked through the doors of this palace since then and only ten of them have made it to Knighthood. These will only help if you use them to strengthen your arms and build up callouses every day.”

Keladry deposited three heavy, worn leather spheres into Nishiko’s hands as she stood up from her chair and began to leave. Turning back just before she exited, Kel added, “The first day you get your weapons, go to the carpenters and ask them to add weighted lead cores to each of them. It will hurt your performance initially, but you will need the endurance in battle.”

Nishiko stood and bowed to her cousin in thanks as Keladry strode out of the room and back to the King’s Own barracks. Rowland and Nishiko followed Padraig’s advice and were fitted for Page uniforms that day at the workroom of the Palace Tailors in one of the castle’s underground levels. As the knotted cords whipped around Nishiko’s body and the tailor called out numbers to her assistant, Nishiko’s ears pricked at a whispering sound coming from the staircase outside the workroom. She tried to ignore the voices since nobody else had reacted to them, but they seemed to call to her specifically as they floated up from the depths of the castle.

Shiko turned towards the door slightly to try and make out the words, but the tailor snapped, “Stand still, girlie, or this here tunic will be even more oversized than it should be!”

After the reprimand Nishiko, stayed planted on the spot and the whispers slowly faded away to nothing. _Perhaps it was just somebody working downstairs and tailors and Rowland simply dismissed it_ , Shiko thought hopefully. However, her mind’s voice screamed at her that this was not a normal phenomenon and that something strange was happening here - something like the mysterious force that had taken her hand and led her out of the caverns five years ago.

When Shiko finally regained the presence of mind to look down at herself, she noticed that the cloth of gold and scarlet uniform fell all the way to her knees with long thin slits on each side that reached up to her hips. She stared in disbelief at the billows of excess cloth floating about her legs and compared it to the neat tunic that hit Rowland just below his waist.

“Pardon me, Madam Tailor,” Shiko inquired politely, “I think this tunic is too long.”

The tailor looked her up and down and barked, “It looks just the way ‘tis supposed to! Lady Pages are to wear knee-length tunics over their hose that still allow them to move as good as a man. If you don’t like ‘em, take it up with the Master of Deportment. Now scram!”

_Perfect_ , Nishiko thought bitterly, _this is simply perfect. I come all this way to be a Page and I still end up stuck in a skirt - of sorts. This is absolutely unbelievable. I bet that the washerwoman and Sakuyo are laughing at me together right this moment._


	4. Outset

The Royal Palace, Tortall

Two days later, after the other Pages had arrived at the palace and settled in, Nishiko’s training truly began. haMinch met all the Pages, new and old, in the banquet hall before breakfast was served. Among roughly forty or so boys, there was only one other girl - a short, curly-haired blonde with a slightly upturned nose, thin brows, and unfortunately splotchy freckles. Nishiko casually caught her eye and smiled at the girl encouragingly. In return, she received a ferocious yellow-eyed glare and a scowl of pure hatred from the girl that took Nishiko by surprise enough to almost make her step back. Instead, Nishiko planted her fleet more solidly on the marble floor and pushed her confusion aside as the Training Master began to speak.

“Welcome to our new Pages, to the old – welcome back, I’m happily surprised that you’ve all decided to return. I will not waste your time with inspiring speeches about your significance to the realm. I would not want your heads to be inflated and unwieldy before I send you off to physical training.” Pages chuckles and haMinch seemed much more informal and relaxed now that his knee was mending. “Besides, I am certain that their Majesties will be visiting us in the coming weeks to discuss this matter. In the meantime, know that you are all vital and that no untoward conduct will be permitted amongst you. Respect one another as you respect yourselves and the names of your families. Without further ado, sponsors;”

He read off of a list of the new Pages, “Duncan of Hollyrose.” A pale, skinny boy with bright red hair and blue eyes stepped forward hesitantly and was claimed by an older boy similar enough in appearance to be assumed a relative. “Marcus of Kennan.” An incredibly tall, broad-shouldered boy with auburn hair and grey eyes worked his way through to the front of the crowd and was matched with a sponsor. Then it was Nishiko’s turn. As haMinch called her forward, she walked slowly to the front concealing her nervousness by flicking her long braid back behind her and standing next to haMinch with her hands folded before her waiting for a volunteer.

There was a moment of tenuous silence that felt like an eternity before a tall, tan boy with shining black eyes and hair raised his hand. Exhaling a small sigh of relief, Nishiko walked out of the center of attention and stood beside her sponsor with a slight smile.  
The boy held out his hand to Nishiko and shook whispering, “Aviram, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Nishiko nodded cheerfully in return recognizing him as the son of Lord Raoul and Lady Buri, good friends of Kel and her parents. She turned her attention back to the front as the training Master announced, “Phoebe of Fenrigh.” The glowering girl stepped forward still wearing an unpleasant expression as if she constantly caught whiffs of a foul odor.

There was a long pause that stretched out awkwardly as older Pages assessed Phoebe skeptically and concluded that her obvious bad attitude would make sponsoring her a chore. The Training Master was about to open his mouth to implore the boys when finally, someone in the very back timidly raised a hand and Phoebe went to stand by him, scowling darkly all the way.

“Rowland of New Hope” shook chin-length brown hair out of his teal eyes, walked to the front, and was sponsored by Garland of Naxen, the great-grandson of the Prime Minister Duke Gareth the Younger. Finally, the last new Page, “Torin of Wellam” was called. Torin was only a little taller than Nishiko with dazzling, prematurely silver hair and dark brown eyes. He moved slowly and deliberately with the grace of a great cat. Instantly, a sponsor presented himself – Prince Leon of Conté, the son of Crown Prince Roald’s younger brother Prince Liam.

Leon greeted Torin with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes and Nishiko looked over the boy who was fourth in line to the throne of Tortall with interest. Leon had the distinctive black hair and blue eyes of the Conté line, but his pale skin, prominent forehead, and deep-set eyes evoked the distinctive features of his mother – the Scanran Princess Shirae who had been betrothed to Prince Liam as part of the peace treaty that ended the Scanran War in 463 H.E.

Once the matter of sponsorship was at last settled, all of the Pages queued in a practiced, orderly fashion before the array of food that had been set out for them in the back of the hall while they had been focused on the Training Master. From the excessive choices available, Nishiko and loaded up her wooden plate with a warm bread roll, rice, crispy slices of pork, a fried egg, and an apple – she would need her strength to get through the rigorous first day.

Sitting next to Aviram, Nishiko ate as he explained, “My father told me you would be coming this year, it’s good to finally meet you after hearing so much talk. Now formalities aside, even though you probably already know most of this, here’s the rundown: physical lessons like riding and archery are in the morning while intellectual classes are in the afternoon with bathing and lunch in between. After the last class, there’s an optional but _highly encouraged_ lecture series that talks about everything from survival skills to religion – fascinating stuff really. But by the end of this week, if you ask me what free time is it’ll be like explaining the moon to a mole.”

Garland sat beside Aviram with Rowland and interjected, “You make it sound absolutely hellish Avi, _but_ I appreciate your use of simile. The Master of Literacy would be impressed.”

“It is indeed hellish, Gar. Luckily you provide me with an easy escape,” Aviram chortled.

“Oh?” Garland replied, keen to hear the punchline, “and what escape would that be.”

“All I have to do is climb up to the level of your ego then fall down to the level of your intellect and sure enough I’ll be welcomed by the Black God’s sweet embrace soon after.”

Nishiko burst into raucous laughter with the fried egg in her mouth and had to snort in a most unladylike fashion in order to keep the food safely in her gob. Luckily, all the surrounding Pages had found it just as amusing and her spluttering was concealed by the general hubbub.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Garland drawled, “hurry up with that food, my green sproutlings. We’ve got to be ready for first hour in about five minutes and I for one don’t want to be late first day.”

“Don’t choke though,” Aviram feigned concern, supervising as the Pages took their last bites, disposed of their plates in the kitchen, and were led to their first lesson, “wouldn’t want you to go to the Peaceful Realms before fully experiencing this rather turbulent one.”

~

They began by sitting on the floor of the inner practice court and stretching their limbs in various configurations familiar to Nishiko from her time in the Yamani Isles. She was surprised to see that when they all stood and leaned down to touch their toes most of the boys seemed to struggle with the move while she and Phoebe, whom she dared to risk a glimpse at, had no issue executing the posture. _Interesting_ , Nishiko thought to herself, _I must ask father about that. Perhaps it has to do with the ratio of torso and leg length in men versus women_.

After being stretched thoroughly, haMinch passed them off to a wiry man named Killen who would lead the Pages’ run about the crenelated ramparts of the palace. Killen escorted them up many flights of stairs that made all of the younger Pages breathe heavily before they even started the real exercise. Finally, they reached a small, yet heavy stone door that opened out onto wallwalk with a waist-high parapet on their right topping the curtain wall and a sturdy wooden balustrade on the left. A warm summer breeze rolled gently over the wall and blew at all of their loose red and gold tunics. Nishiko looked down at her own knee-length garment as it fluttered in the wind examining the slits up the side that allowed for movement.

Aviram saw her glance and nudged her joking, “Hope you don’t get that caught on any torch brackets or spikes up here. One unexpected tug and-” he pulled at an invisible rope around his thick neck and feigned a hilariously exaggerated death grimace complete with lolling tongue.

Nishiko laughed, then affected a mock-serious tone as she pronounced, “I swear by my flouncy, red apron-cape that if I die I’m taking you and the seamstress with me.”

Avi guffawed as Killen began to lead them in a light, steady jog that slowly escalated into a full-out sprint. The older boys at the front saw this as an opportunity to compete and subtly nudged and edged one another out trying to gain the lead. Nishiko was running powerfully and breathing easily due to her years of exercise, but others in her class did not fare so well. Phoebe’s face was tomato-red as she gasped and spluttered for air rather than modulating short exhalations with long inhalations. Duncan was also struggling and seemed to have pulled a muscle in his right calf causing his gate to wobble strangely. Even Torin, as fit as he had first appeared, was losing steam quickly. When they completed their first full circuit about the rampart, Killen allowed them to slow to a brisk walk. So that everyone could hear behind him, he yelled, “Don’t stop! If you stop you’ll cramp! Keep walking, regain your wind, and then we begin again!”

When they worked back up to a sprint, Duncan threw up his breakfast over the outer rampart while Phoebe panted and clutched at stitches in her side. Everyone was tiring by this point and Nishiko wondered vaguely how they could start the day this rigorously when there was so much more to do. Finally, they completed a second full lap of the wallwalk and stumbled back through the door and down the stairs to the outside practice yards with tired, shaking legs.

New Pages split off from the old and headed toward the archery yard where two men were waiting for them. After assessing the new Pages’ bow skills at increasingly distant targets, the Archery Master moved Nishiko, Rowland, and Torin to a different range while he worked with the others to improve their aim and stance. The setup of the upper-level range was like nothing Nishiko had ever seen before – targets shaped like humans with concentric rings painted around heads and chests were attached to metal-wrapped cords that tugged the figures this way and that when the Archery Master’s apprentice turned a crank at the end of the array.

“Jus’ be careful that no ma’er how far your target moves to left o’ right, don’ shoot the Lord - or Lady,” he added nodding deferentially to Nishiko, “next to ya.”

Despite seeming obvious enough, the apprentice’s advice was good to hear considering that Nishiko nearly took Rowland’s ear off. She was so intent on following her moving target that she almost loosed her arrow before realizing that the obstruction before her sight was flesh. By the end of the hour, only Torin had successfully hit his target once and only barely at that.

“Don’t dismay lads,” the Archery Master walked back over bow in hand, “For next time, all you have to do is anticipate where the target will be by the time your arrow reaches it rather than its location at the moment you release.”

With a nod to his apprentice to turn the crank, he pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched, and tracked the movement of the first target for a few moments with his arrow tip and outstretched arm pointed slightly ahead of the target’s path. With a fluid gesture, the Master released the arrow from his two-fingered grip and it whooshed past his ear sinking deeply into the first target’s chest bullseye. Five nearly instantaneous releases later and each target was pierced in the head and chest bullseyes – he had clearly only been slow on the first shot to demonstrate for their benefit. Rowland was open-mouthed in shocked admiration while Torin looked skeptically at the target as if wondering whether what he had just witnessed was possible.

Nishiko raised her hand and the Archery Master chided gently, “No need to raise your hand out here Queenscove, this is the outdoors not a classroom. Ask your question.”

She nodded and asked, “How do you determine where the target will be by the time your arrow reaches it?”

The Master scratched his head and replied, “Your Master of Mathematics could likely give you a more logical explanation having to do with velocity and some-such equation, but all I can say is that it’s something you sense. You get a feel for how far away a target is and how long it’ll take for the arrow to get there and then you just… _know_ when to fire. There aren’t rules I can teach you, archery is more art than skill so practice is the only way to improve.”

Feeling a little dejected and very confused, the new Pages moved on to practicing with wooden staffs. Here Nishiko regained some of her confidence as she wielded the staff properly, hands evenly spaces with a firm grip and feet planted in a sturdily. After half an hour of basic repeat-after-me movements lead by the Staff Master, each Page was matched to an opponent by height. Duncan faced off against Phoebe, Rowland against Marcus, and Nishiko against Torin. The Master shouted out strike patterns and they all parried and blocked with their staffs, correct blows making a satisfying _clack_ while glancing blows stuck fingers. Nishiko and Torin were very evenly matched and she smiled at Torin as each strike and block was coordinated perfectly. He did not return the smile, but instead gazed back at her with wary disdain. The expression surprised Nishiko enough to shake her concentration and her blow accidentally struck Torin’s hand instead of his staff. He yelled in pain dropping his weapon and stepping back from Nishiko.

“I am so sorry Torin!” she exclaimed, horrified by her mistake, “Here, let me heal it.”

As she reached out to take his injured hand, Torin jerked away suddenly causing even more pain and roared, “Don’t touch me you ha-” he broke off suddenly as if remembering what haMinch had said about disrespectful behavior towards fellow Pages. All the other matches came to a halt and the Pages watched as the Staff Master swooped in to assess the situation.

“What seems to be the trouble, Wellam?” the older man asked, sharply, “It was an honest mistake, let the girl heal you! Or are you just being prideful?”

Torin looked down at his feet and shook his head ‘no.’ Nishiko approached Torin cautiously and gently took his injured hand in hers tilting it left and right to determine the injury.

“Your middle finger is broken, but I can fix it easily,” she said as turquoise light glowed around her hand and seeped into Torin’s. He gasped as the magic took hold and restored his finger as if nothing had happened.

“Better?” Torin nodded but refused to look Nishiko in the eye.

“If you do not thank her, Torin, I’ll assign you punishment duty,” the Master threatened.

“There’s no need!” Nishiko interjected worriedly, “I caused the injury, he shouldn’t have to thank me for undoing it.”

The Master was about to protest when Torin mumbled mechanically, “Thank you.”

Nishiko was reassigned to Rowland and Torin to Marcus in order to avoid further issues.

As Nishiko got back in the rhythm of staffwork, Rowland whispered, “What the hell was all his fuss about? Injuries happen when you’re a Page, what does he expect?”

She shook her head, “No idea, I was only trying to help.” Nishiko parried Rowland’s staff neatly and continued, “Right before the accident he looked at me like I was a dead rat.”

“I’ve heard that the Wellam family is quite conservative, but they’re also reasonable.”

“Perhaps the leaf was blown far from the tree,” Nishiko speculated.

The next hour was spent learning how to fall properly, the first basic skill of hand-to-hand combat. This was an old lesson for Nishiko; she distributed her wait evenly across her torso and slapped the ground as she landed enabling herself to spring back up into the ready combat position rather than crumpling to the dirt uselessly. Since she was obviously familiar with the move, the Fighting Master used her to demonstrate the fall to the others. Phoebe scowled and Torin simply refused to watch Nishiko at all. _Their loss_ , she thought grimly.

The last physical lesson of the day was riding – Nishiko’s favorite aspect of the warrior’s craft. There was nothing quite like the feeling of oneness the rider experienced with her horse when the steed’s gate and her movements in the saddle suddenly harmonized. The pony that carried Nishiko to Corus was a good gelding, but mainly built for long-distance rather than speed. Nishiko would have to borrow one of the palace horses, so she perused the stables with a sugar cube in hand as an offering of good will. After walking past row upon row of perfectly fine horses that simply did not call to her, Nishiko’s shoulder was butted by a velvety muzzle as she passed. She turned back to see a large amber eye staring back at her out of a speckled, blue roan face and a black, wiry mane that stuck straight up from the gelding’s muscular neck.

Nishiko read the tag on the bridle and tack hanging on the stable door aloud, “Spanky?”

The gelding whickered softly and lipped at the sugar cube. She let Spanky have it and blew into his wide nostrils while he chewed in order to familiarize him with her scent.

“Seems to me like you’re the one, Spanky,” Nishiko spoke to him like a human as she carefully saddled, bridled, and mounted the horse that would carry her for the next four years.

She rode him out of the barn and into the huge, enclosed field that served as the Pages’ riding pasture. Buriram Tourakom of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak stood confidently in the center of the field holding the rains of a pony as she waited for the Pages to ride in.

Once they were all arranged before her, Buri explained, “We’re going to do things a little differently here. Today, you will all ride however you like – no instructions, routines, or requirements. Just ride about and show me what you can do. I will supervise and correct only so that I can decide where to start teaching you. My first rule, and the only one I’ll teach today, is a K’miri adage: ‘Ride your horse in the direction that it’s going.’”

With that, Buri turned the new Pages loose and allowed them to become familiar with their new steeds. Despite the implications of his name, Spanky was quite agreeable and responded to the slightest squeezing of Nishiko’s thighs around his belly rather than kicks. She gradually increased his speed from trot to canter to gallop feeling the wind fly behind them as her heart whooped with glee at the speed. Deciding to show off just a little, Nishiko steered Spanky gracefully over a jump that had been left standing by the previous lesson.

“Very good, Queenscove,” Buriram came up beside her as Spanky slowed to a trot. “You and that horse have an understanding with one another. You’re dismissed for the rest of the hour. Go ahead and wash off, both of you.” She leaned over to scratch Spanky’s ear then trotted off.

Nishiko bowed in the saddle and rode the gelding back to his stable to give him a nice rub down and clean the tack. After this was complete, she luxuriated alone in the bath specifically built for female Pages and Squires at the urging of female Pages who came after Lady Knight Keladry. Eventually, Phoebe joined her in the bath looking grim and covered in horse saliva.

“What’s your horse’s name?” Nishiko asked, trying to start a friendly conversation.

Phoebe stripped with impunity and sneered, “Why do you care?”

Nishiko had endured just about enough unwarranted rudeness for the day and replied curtly, “If you want to be left alone, all you had to was say so. No need to be obnoxious.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Phoebe asked, shaking her head sanctimoniously.

“Get what?” Nishiko snapped.

“I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to be your friend, you’re the competition.”

“Competition?” now Nishiko was merely perplexed, “Being a Page isn’t about winning last time I checked, Phoebe. It’s just about each person learning and doing well.”

Phoebe scoffed, “Wow, you really don’t know. What rock have you been living under?”

“Now listen you-” Nishiko, enraged, was cut off as Phoebe explained,

“Each year since Keladry became Squire to Lord Raoul, at most only _one_ female Page makes it to Squire. Whenever there are multiple girls in the same year, only one can make it.”

“That’s absurd,” Nishiko felt relieved – if this was the cause for Phoebe’s rudeness, she could put it to bed with just a few logical arguments and perhaps they would become friends yet.

“It is not! Take a look at haMinch’s stupid wall of names. You’ll only find one or zero girl names per year,” Phoebe crossed her arms and humphed like she had won a great debate.

“Even if that’s true, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” Nishiko replied quietly, feeling a less certain, “Rumors of this “curse” probably cause it as well like a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Curse, prophecy, conspiracy, quota - call it what you will, but that’s the way it is and since you’re so much better at everything than me thus far, the odds are stacked against me.”

Nishiko nervously finger-combed her wet hair getting stuck in the seemingly endless knots and tangles from the day. Turning to the bath attendant she politely requested a pair of shears and proceeded to keep untangling her coal black tresses in the warm, soapy water.

She hesitated, “Assuming all of that is true, it behooves us to work together rather than against each other so we can beat the odds. I think both of us should be able to become Squires.”

“Leave me alone,” Phoebe pouted and swam as far away from Shiko as the bath allowed.

The servant returned with the shears and handed them to Nishiko who began to calmly snip at her hair gathering the severed strands into a towel on the side of the bath. Phoebe watched, trying to disguise her curiosity as Nishiko removed several long sections. Nishiko stopped trimming when she was left with hair that fell just above her shoulders curling slightly in toward her neck with a slight fringe of bangs across the right side of her forehead. Looking at her reflection in the undulating bath water, Nishiko smiled with satisfaction and submerged washing the last flecks of dirt and hair off of her body. She rose out of the bath, water streaming off her clean body, and thanked the attendant as she handed Nishiko a towel. Wrapping it securely around herself, Nishiko turned to face Phoebe who sat far below her in the bathwater.

Allowing her face to go Yamani smooth, Nishiko smiled coldly at Phoebe and intoned, “See being a Page as a game if you will, I have no personal quarrel with you. However, if you try to sabotage me out of some misguided attempt to increase your chances of becoming a Squire, I will cut you away as I did this hair, as I will anything that distracts me or holds me back.”

Nishiko turned and walked abruptly out of the bath and into the changing room where she dried off and donned her hose and tunic. _Hopefully that performance convinced her not to mess with me_ , Nishiko thought stifling a giggle. She had never thought of herself as very intimidating, but the look on Phoebe’s face made Nishiko realize the kind of impact she could have.


End file.
